Sex trip at the school

As soon as Mark had told me now to dress, I was worried.

My shortest skirt was extremely short and I had only worn it once. It was a
faded red color, made of very thin denim material, but not thick like jeans
or anything like that. I had bought it at a thrift store when cruising
shops with a guy I had been seeing some time back. It had only cost a
couple of dollars. When I tried it on for him after we got to his home, we
were both amazed at how short it really was. I swore I would never wear it
in public. After some time had passed I had forgotten about the skirt and
on Valentine’s Day I asked him if there was “anything special” he wanted me
to wear that evening. He talked me into wearing the faded red skirt and
even into going out with him to a bar he had been wanting to go to where he
could shoot pool.sexy cunt

I agreed to wear it, sort of as a “Valentine’s Day” gift.

We were at the bar about three hours all together. I watched him shoot pool
and drank as the waitress came by to replenish my “Dewar’s and water on the
rocks with a twist.” In the beginning, I mostly stood, not wanting to sit
down in that skirt. People, especially guys, would stare at my legs. It
seemed that this bar had a lot of “regulars,” and neither my date nor I were
frequent visitors there.

No one was really talking to me much, except for a couple of young girls,
and later a tall slim girl with short hair and a tattoo around her next in
some bizarre barbed style. It was obvious to everyone that I was there with
someone, and although I was stared at quite a bit, no one wanted to come and
talk to me to avoid the appearance of “hitting” on me in front of what they
assumed was my boyfriend. Plus, when I would look around I would see heads
snap in the other direction or eyes suddenly avert away from my gaze. The
skirt was that short. It barely covered my ass.

It was weird. Like there was a bubble around me that everyone could see
through but no one could talk through and approach me. As nervous and
embarrassed as I was to be standing there dressed like that, it seemed that
I also made those around me nervous as well. I was too embarrassed to
initiate conversation. I spent a lot of the time alone, because my
“boyfriend” was shooting pool. Sometimes he would come over between shots,
and sometimes he would stay and talk to those he was shooting against. We
would exchange looks, however, and he always had this huge grin on his face,
like he was leaving me alone on purpose, knowing I was being stared at and
getting off on it. He mentioned how I was the “center of attention.”

After a long while, I could not bear to stand anymore, and knowing that my
panties would be entirely visible, I still sat down on this high stool next
to a tall table against one wall. I used the wall to lean against and watch
the pool game. Sometimes he would come over and tell me which guys had been
looking up my skirt, then go back to his game. If it had not been for the
liquor I would probably not have had the nerve to sit down. At the same
time, I was getting used to being stared at and not talked to, so it was not
that much more of a step to let them stare at my panties, too. I pretended
not to notice, but I noticed.

Anyway, after a while we left and went back to his house and made love, but
I swore to him that I would not do anything like that ever again.

And this was the skirt that Mark wanted me to wear. At least it was the
shortest skirt of mine in the house. I certainly did not want to wear it,
especially since I knew I would not be wearing panties.

Did I dare take a chance and not wear this skirt? In spite of his warning
that I should not try to “trick” him? That he would check? Plus, what if
there was someone at the school, even if it was Sunday? And where else
might we go?

All this was going through my mind as I decided what to do.

The first thing I did was carry a full length mirror from my bedroom and
carry it to the garage. It was heavy, but it stood on a stand and I could
not bear the idea of getting dressed as Mark wanted without being able to
see what I looked like. Then I got the required clothing, including the red
skirt and took them to the garage to get dressed. I took a pair of tennis
shoes instead of heels, hoping he would not notice the difference, and
because heels looked really stupid with this skirt. I dressed in the
garage, looking in the mirror.

I pulled a chair over in front of the mirror and sat down to see what was
visible. I would need to bring more lamps into the garage later so I would
be able to see better. Even though it was dark, you could see my pussy hair
simply by looking under my skirt. Closing my legs tight did not help much.
Crossing my legs seemed to make it worse, causing the skirt to ride up
higher on my legs. My nipples poked out at the thin fabric of the white
blouse, but I could not be sure exactly what was visible in a stronger light
or the sunlight.

As I was sitting in front of the mirror, looking at myself, Mark came into
the garage from somewhere in the house. “Jesus!” he exclaimed.

I took that to mean I looked good.

“Aren’t you a little old to be wearing skirts that short?” he asked.

I was taken aback. “But you said to wear the shortest one,” I managed.
“you said you were going to check!”

“So you’re not totally stupid,” he snapped. “And you’re right. I’ve
already been through all your clothes when you weren’t home, so if you had
worn anything but that, you would have been in pretty deep trouble. But
yes, you do look pretty sexy for an old broad. I just wonder why a
supposedly respectable teacher owns a skirt that’s not good for much except
flashing pussy.”

“I only wore it once,” I replied, wondering how he could so easily make me
feel so small.

“Flashing pussy?”

“I wore panties,” I said.

“So you gave panty shots to anyone who cared enough to look?”

It was pointless to argue with him or explain. “Yes,” was all I could say.

“Did you carry a big sign that said ‘Slut’ on it?”

“Of course not.”

“No, it would have been better if you had written ‘slut’ in red letters on
the crotch of your panties. Too bad I already made you burn them all. It
would have been an idea,” he said. “Of course you realize everyone who saw
your panties thought you were a slut, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” was all I would commit to.

“Funny answer,” he responded. “At least YOU know what you are. Right?”

“Yes. I do.”

“And what is that?”

“A slut.”

“Of course. And what about anyone who sneaks a look up your skirt today?
Will they think that ‘maybe’ you’re a slut, or will they be certain?”

“I imagine they will be fairly certain,” I admitted.

“Certain of what?” he prompted.

“Certain I am a slut.”

“Because…?”

“Because they can see my pussy.”

He changed the subject a bit. “What sounds nastier?” he asked me. “Pussy
or cunt?”

“Cunt,” I agreed, knowing it was the right answer.

“And what is this?” he asked, reaching a finger up beneath my skirt and
touching me.

“My pu….my cunt,” I answered.

“Good dog,” he answered. “There may be hope for you yet. From now on, you
are forbidden to use the word ‘pussy.’” Then he showed me his finger. “Wet
again. Already. What a slut.” Next he lifted up my breast and asked me
what it was.

“My breast,” I said.

“Incorrect response. It is a ‘boob’ or a ‘tit.’ Now, what is this?” he
asked again.

“My boob,” I answered, feeling my pussy juices begin to flow again.

“Correct, slut.” Then he slapped me sharply across the face.

“What was that for?” I shouted, bringing my hand to my cheek in shock and
surprise.

“Because, in spite of how good you look today, I didn’t want you to forget
your place. And because I own you, and I can.” Then he slapped me again.
“I told you I was going to treat you like shit, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “You did.”

Then he surprised me by saying something totally unexpected. “Besides, you
get off on it.”

I said nothing. In some ways, I did. In some ways, I did not.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer,” he said as he reached beneath my
skirt again and stroked my pussy. “Your cunt answers for you.” He wiped
his hand across my still stinging cheek to show me how wet I was.

My pussy was soaking wet. I knew it and was embarrassed at the way it
betrayed me, but could do nothing to stop it from reacting this way to him
and how he treated me. Neither could I fully understand it.

“On your knees, cunt,” he ordered. “ I haven’t had a blowjob yet today.”

Obediently, I got on my knees on the hard concrete floor. I undid his pants
and pulled down his zipper before pulling down his pants and briefs to take
his member into my mouth. I blew him. The third time in less than
twenty-four hours.

When he was about ready to come he pulled from my mouth and I expected him
to shoot off onto my face again. Instead, he shot onto the floor of the
garage.

“Lick it up,” he said routinely as he pulled his pants up. “I’ll be waiting
in the car.”

As he walked to the passenger side of the car, I leaned over and began
licking his come off the cement. My tongue also came into contact with the
grit and dirt on the garage floor. Maybe I am stupid, I thought for a
moment. Then I finished licking up the globs of sticky goo.

When I climbed into the car, he said, “Let’s go to school.”